Chapter 2 #2
I hand him a knife and a cutting board, and he sulks, moving to the other side of the stove to cut the lettuce. He knows how to do this. It’s not that hard. Mom used to make him do this all the time growing up.
When it’s washed and placed in a bowl, he gets to work on the tomato, promptly squishing it by trying to slice too hard. You need a soft touch when working with those fruits.
“Damn things are too hard to cut.”
“Just need practice. It’s what I keep telling you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really enjoy cooking.”
“With how much you like to eat, I’m surprised.”
“I’m just busy at work. I don’t have time to learn new things.”
I take the tomato from him and attempt to cut it as well, but my damn hand slips slightly, my mind distracted with thoughts of Arbor, of seeing him again. The guy just won’t fucking leave my mind.
“Damn, see! It’s hard.”
I take a deep breath and slice through it the way I should have from the beginning.
“Get a cucumber from the fridge and the croutons.”
He does as I ask but pours far too many into the bowl, and then quickly shovels them out with his hand, ramming them into his mouth as if to hide the evidence.
“How is work?” I ask while he collects everything I asked for.
“Good, like I said. Got a raise. But yeah, feeling a little overworked. Kind of feel taken advantage of sometimes.”
“Even with the extra money?”
“Yeah. Don’t think it’s what it should be, to be honest. I do the work of like three people, but I like being close to home. If I want a team and better pay, I’ll have to move.”
That makes me hesitate. It’s the one thing I like about living here in Wolverston. We are all so close. It’s almost like an unspoken pact we all made after Mom died. We’d all stay close to one another and, more importantly, close to Dad.
“But, Dad,” River says, as if reading my mind. “I can’t leave.”
“Yeah, I think that would be hard.”
He sighs and then rubs at his neck. “Not a big deal. I’ll just grow a backbone and eventually ask for a team and better pay.”
“Good for you.”
I pull some plates down and dish us up. Handing one to River, he stares down at it and pouts.
“Is that all?”
“To start with. Your eyes are always bigger than your stomach.”
“You sound like Dad. He was always stingy with food.”
“He was trying to make ends meet after Mom, you know that.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He grumbles and walks to the table, sitting down.
I follow him, grabbing us both another cider.
With how much he’s drinking, he may need to sleep on my couch.
Wild Howl offers a brand of cider specifically for non-shifting alphas.
Wild Fang is more potent. Tried it once and passed out after one can.
This one is better. Gets us buzzed without the hangover the next day.
But even so, River will feel it soon if he doesn’t slow down.
He shovels food into his mouth and groans as he swallows.
“Keep it down, man,” I say with a chuckle. “Don’t need fuck sounds in here.”
He eyes me as he pushes more food into his mouth.
“Sorry,” he murmurs around a mouthful.
I take a sip of my cider and a bite of the food I made. Definitely better than what River would have done, I think, and then my mind turns to Arbor.
He’s a fucking mystery. What’s he doing right now? Where does he live? I can imagine him in a loft in the city, all metal fixtures and white countertops. Does he eat alone? Does he know how to cook, or does he survive off his stubborn energy?
“What are you thinking ’bout?” River asks, swiping at his mouth. “You look like you’re taking a shit.”
“Maybe I am.”
He wrinkles his nose and then laughs. “Nah, tell me. What’s up?”
“Got a new boss at work. He’s…well, you remember that supermoon event at The Den?”
River’s eyes widen. “Oh my gods.” He shovels more food into his mouth, a noodle hanging out of the left side when he asks, “He was the omega you told me about? The one you fucked and then he bailed?”
I wince, and he slaps his hand down so hard on the table that it jostles slightly. “Fuck dude! Does he know?”
“No, he doesn’t recognize me.”
“Shit. But you recognize him? Was it his scent or what?”
Yes, the scent. The fucking way he smells. Fucking delicious, enticing. Fantastic.
“It was his eyes,” I say instead.
“Aw. Romantic,” River says, and then shakes his head. “But it puts you in a bit of a predicament, huh?”
“Yeah. Don’t really know what to do.”
“Yeah, me neither. You should ask the fam when we meet this Friday.”
“Shit, I forgot about that.”
“Yeah, Dad wants us to meet his girlfriend.” He wrinkles his nose again. “I’m not gonna like her.”
“We’ll give her a chance. He deserves to be happy.”
“She has a son our age, dude.”
Yeah, I heard about that.
“Is he coming Friday?”
“Yeah, it’s a meet the family, apparently. Don’t know why he has to come, but I guess Dad likes her, and the son is staying with his mom for a while, so…”
I really have no desire to meet anyone our dad is dating right now, but I say nothing. Our dad does deserve to be happy, so I’ll grin and bear it.
When I’m done eating, River roots around in my freezer for dessert, and when he scoops himself out some vanilla ice cream, my nostrils flare. It reminds me of Arbor, the way he smells like dessert.
“Didn’t know you liked ice cream,” River says. “Thought you hated the stuff.”
I do. I don’t really like it, but fuck me if I haven’t eaten it these past three months in remembrance of him. Like a fucking holy communion.
River takes his bowl and flops down on the couch.
“Not gonna do the dishes?” I grumble, and River sighs.
“Leave them for me. Promise I’ll do them after I finish this ice cream and have a short nap.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling, knowing a nap is going to turn into an all-night slumber, so I get the job done myself, all while thinking about my new boss.
After River is sound asleep and the dishes are done, I decide to swing by the local mart to grab a few bottles of wine to bring to Dad’s place on Friday.
He didn’t ask me to, but I think it’s a nice gesture, and if things go awry, or I hate the lady he’s brought home, I have something to calm my nerves.
Plus, River’s incessant snoring and my ruminating thoughts about my boss were making me slightly stir crazy.
When I walk into the mini mart, I see Red almost immediately.
He looms in an aisle, his red eyes scanning the canned fruits and vegetables, searching for something.
I don’t ask if he needs help, just move to the alcohol section and grab a few bottles.
I hope he doesn’t see me. I’m not in the mood to speak to him.
He’s different, threatening in a weird way. I know he’s done nothing to warrant the distrust from people in this town, but there’s just something off about him. He makes me wary in all the worst ways.
As I make my way toward the front of the store, someone runs into me in a blur and a flash of light. I feel a fizz of something lighting up my skin, and I shake it off.
Blinking, I look around, trying to spot whoever bumped into me, but they’re gone. Almost as if they’d never existed.
I’m probably overtired and hallucinating. I move past Red, who is still standing in the same spot.
His eyes flick over to mine, and he stares at me.
My chin lifts in greeting, but he ignores me, turning his gaze back to the cans.
I sigh and move to the lone register.
“This all for you?” the girl behind the counter says, her cheeks flushing when Red moves up behind me. She peers over at him and stammers slightly. “I mean, this is all you have, right?”
“Yep,” I say, ignoring the feeling of Red staring at my back.
“Cool.” She turns her gaze to Red and adds, “Be right with you.”
Red says nothing, just continues to stay eerily silent. As the register beeps, I hear footsteps move up behind Red, but I don’t bother to look to see who it is. Like I said, I’m just here to get some wine and not think about Arbor.
I tap my card on the machine, and it beeps that it’s completed the transaction.
And then I’m grabbing my bag and stepping toward the exit.
As I go, I hear a faint voice—a threat, a promise. “You’re paying for this.”
I crane my neck slightly to look back, but there’s only Red checking out, and whoever the next customer is, that’s obscured behind him.
Maybe I really am losing my mind. Maybe I need to cut back on the caffeine and get some more sleep.
Whatever it is, it needs to stop.
Friday rolls around quicker than I expect, and the weird sightings of Red and the shadows in the forest cease to exist. I’m back to normal once again.
My meetings with Arbor continue to be short and succinct every morning.
And every afternoon, after the crew has left, I linger behind, finishing up projects until he’s ready to leave.
He’s a hard worker, I’ll give him that, and he’s cleaned up Declan’s mess in a few short days.
We already have all the missing permits and contractors lined up to do the jobs my men aren’t licensed to do.
I can tell everyone is impressed with him.
Even if some get annoyed with how strict he is about following the rules, and a few of them heckle him just because they can.
But I figure I’d rather have someone who goes by the book than someone who tosses it out the window, especially in this industry, where things could get shut down if it’s discovered that corners were cut.
I grab a clean pair of clothes from the truck for the family dinner I’m going to after work and move into the small trailer. I’m gonna have to change clothes here and head out as soon as Arbor’s finished with his paperwork.
When I make my way toward the restroom, I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t turn around to look at him.
“When you’re done, I need to speak with you,” he says to my back.
“Got it. Be right out.”
I close the door, wash my face and hands, and then change into a flannel shirt and a clean pair of jeans. Deciding not to make him wait for me to button my shirt up, I stride out of the bathroom as my fingers try to find the button at the bottom.
Arbor’s eyes meet mine and then slide down my chest, his cheeks reddening. He shifts in his seat, his lips rolling between his teeth.
“Wh—?”
“Have to look nice,” I interrupt, swearing when I realize the shirt is inside out, and that’s why I can’t find the button.
“Damn thing,” I murmur as I pull it off my shoulders, and that’s when I hear a gasp.
My eyes flick to Arbor, and I see that his previously pink cheeks are pale. His eyes are wide, and I catch that look of stunned silence.
Oh shit. The keloid scar on my shoulder.
It’s big and ugly, and completely obvious.
I got it from being a stupid teen and playing with sharp metal.
It never healed correctly because I didn’t tell my parents about it right away, and despite having some of the lingering shifter genes, not getting it properly taken care of made it permanent.
He must recognize it from the Heat Hunt. Fuck. He must recognize me.
“You. Oh my gods. You,” he whispers, his fingers trembling.
I school my features. “Yeah.” It’s all I can say.
His fingers are curled against the desk, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to come to terms with this new revelation—that the man directly under him was literally under him at some point. And over him. Inside of him.
My cock perks up at the thought.
“Don’t need to make it a big deal,” I murmur as I pull the flannel back on and work on buttoning it.
But he hasn’t moved, his chest heaving, his breathing noisy. He’s panicking.
“I said nothing before, won’t say anything about it now.”
“I can’t believe this. It was supposed to be anonymous.”
“It was, but your eyes are a dead giveaway.” I don’t mention his varying scents. Don’t want to send him over the edge. He’s already far too close to falling over completely.
“I hate them.”
He closes his eyelids as if to shut me out, so I move toward him and lean against the edge of his desk.
“Come on, look at me.” He does so reluctantly. One eye and then the other. “You’re still my boss. This changes nothing.”
“It changes everything. You saw me…saw me like that.” His tone changes, his eyes growing hazy. “You smelled me and you wanted me…you told me you were going to mark me!” He gasps. “I was your first man. Oh my gods.”
“Like I said, it doesn’t need to be a big deal.”
“It is a big fucking deal.” He inhales deeply, and I notice the shift in his body. “I can smell your pheromones right now,” he says, blinking rapidly.
“Yeah, and I can smell your slick, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is work. We can keep it professional.”
He bristles at that, wiggling in his seat.
“Do not mention…that.”
“It’s true. But yeah, I said it once and won’t say it again. We’ll just keep it professional from now on.”
“Keep it professional,” he snaps. “Like I won’t be able to stop myself from begging you to suck my dick or bend me over. My gods. That won’t ever happen here. No one can know about this. No one.”
I say nothing to that because if he begged for my dick, I’d give it to him. I’d do it all. But not until he wants it.
“We won’t mention it again. We can forget it ever happened.”
That’s a lie. I can’t forget it happened, but I say it anyway. To help him relax, to stop the hyperventilation.
“You better forget that night because I’m not doing that with you again.”
As he says it, his cheeks redden, and I know that he’s thinking of it, my cock inside him. The way my knot fit so perfectly, the way he called me Alpha and meant it. For that night, I owned him.
And he knows it.
“I’m leaving,” he says, quickly shutting his computer off and grabbing his bag. In his haste, he forgets his glasses, so I pick them up and hand them to him.
Our fingers brush as he grabs them, and he whimpers at the touch. That needy omega is coming out, and his scent is growing stronger.
Coconut and cloves.
It doesn’t bother me at all. It’s thick and warm, and I want to smother myself in it. Like the best dessert. Even the purifier does nothing to quell it.
I adjust myself and bite back a groan.
I wonder if he’ll go home tonight and push a knotted silicone cock inside of him and think of me, of the way I smell, the way I look.
I follow him out of the trailer, my eyes sliding down to his ass, and I watch his hand tremble as he locks up.
“Why are you standing so close?” he whispers.
I take a step back, and he exhales deeply.
“Have a good night, Mr. Barrett,” he says, his voice wobbling slightly.
“You too.”
I stare at him until his car is out of the lot, and then I slip into the driver’s seat of my truck.
And if I stay and get myself off to the thought of him, that’s no one’s business but my own.